Walking With the Dead

When Emma woke up the next morning, she felt like shit.

She was cold, and her body ached. Her eyes were dry and irritated, and she knew they were red from hours spent crying. There was a large bruise at the base of her left thumb from where she bit down on it all night, stifling her sobs. But all her physical pain couldn’t compare to the overwhelming emptiness she felt inside.

Even though she was awake, Emma stayed in bed for a while longer. She watched the shadows dance across the walls as the sun rose higher in the sky. Somehow, the bright sunshine only served to make the cold concrete and metal walls even colder.

It was quiet. That meant that either everyone was still sleeping, or they had already woken up and were off doing their morning chores. Judging from the amount of sunlight, Emma’s bet was on the later.

Emma finally crawled out of bed. She ran a comb through her hair, then did her best to tie her hair back in a braid. But her fingers were cold and numb, and she ended up with dozens of strands of hair falling around her face. She thought about re-doing her hair, but at the same time, she simply didn’t care.

It was another few minutes before Emma decided she could finally face the others. With a heavy push, she tried to slide the cell door open, but something was in the way. She looked down and saw her shoes sticking in the grating of the cell door. The same shoes she’d left in Daryl’s cell the night before.

A wave of revulsion washed over Emma as she looked down at the tennis shoes and, without even thinking, she snatched them and threw them in the small trash bin in the corner of her cell. Then she looked down at them, breathless. She felt foolish, to throw away a pair of shoes simply because they reminded her of him. And yet, she didn’t pick up the shoes. She just turned around and left.

Emma found the rest of the Atlanta survivors down in the cafeteria, sitting at a long table in front of platters of food. Well, almost all the survivors. Daryl was nowhere to be found, and for that she was glad.

Remembering how her voice had echoed off the cell walls last night, Emma had expected everyone to watch her every move. She expected to see pity in their eyes. But, much to her surprise, hardly anyone paid her any mind, except for Glenn, who slid to the side, making more room on the bench. Emma sat down, and Glenn grabbed a plate and started piling it with food.

Emma looked around and saw most everyone was finished with their breakfast. “How long have you been up?”

“Not much longer than you. Maybe an hour.” Glenn laid the plate in front of Emma, who looked at the food with disinterest. Scrambled eggs, hash browns, beef jerky and canned peaches. It was more food in one meal than she’d had in months, but she had no appetite.

“You should have woken me.”

“Nah. You obliviously needed the sleep,” Glenn said, and then he turned to say something to Maggie.

Emma looked around, trying to gauge everyone’s behavior towards her. For the most part, everyone was acting normally, going about their usual business. No one paid Emma any more attention than normal. Was it possible no one had heard her conversation with Daryl last night? Everyone was acting like that was the case.

As she was looking around, a pair of black eyes grabbed her attention. She looked across the cafeteria where Miguel sat with the rest of the inmates. They were all hunched together, except for Miguel, who sat up straight and looked directly at her.

His gaze was paralyzing. He looked at her with a piercing intensity that made her feel exposed. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his.

Emma remembered last night, and how concerned Miguel had been. Miguel hadn’t been very far from Daryl’s when Emma ran into him. He had to have heard their conversation, and if that was the case, he knew about Emma and Daryl, and she didn’t know how that made her feel.

“Emma.”

“Huh?” Emma looked around as someone called her name. She met eyes with T-Dog. “What was that?”

“I said you better eat up. It’s going to be a long day.”

Emma looked down at her plate. She wasn’t the least bit hungry, but she shoveled a forkful of food into her mouth nonetheless. The food was bland, dry. She might as well have been eating sawdust.

After breakfast, Carol, Lori and Maggie took care of the dishes. The men all gathered to start creating a plan on what the next step should be. Emma was left alone. No one asked for her help and, for once, Emma was okay with that. She took advantage of being ignored by leaving the cafeteria, climbing up the cold metal stairs to her cell, and crawling into her cot.

Emma wanted to sleep the day away, but despite how exhausted she was – both physically and mentally – she couldn’t find sleep. So, Emma ended up passing the time in a semi-catatonic state, watching the shadows shrink and grow as the sun passed overhead.

It had to have been hours before someone interrupted Emma’s peaceful, yet painful, silence.

A gentle ring sounded as someone tapped something metal against the bars of her cell. “Housekeeping.”

Emma lifted her head and saw Carol standing there in a bright orange jumpsuit that hung loose on her petite frame. She was also holding a pile of orange and white fabric, along with a pair of boots. There was a gentle smile on her face. Emma stood up, took two steps to the cell door, and pulled it open. “What’s this?”

“Clothes. The inmates showed Rick to the laundry room. There are more jumpsuits that we can count. We decided it would be a good idea to wear these for a while until we can get new clothes. They’re not very pretty, but at least they don’t smell,” Carol said, wrinkling her nose slightly.

Emma smiled. She couldn’t deny their clothes had grown funky over the past four days. With the walker ambush, the farm catching fire, and all the running and fighting she’d done, her clothes were grimy, soaked with sweat and stained with blood.

“That sounds great,” Emma said, and she grabbed the clothes from Carol’s hands. She was more than glad to change into a set of clean clothes, even if they were a prisoner’s uniform. Now if only I could get a proper shower. “Are those boots for me, too?”

Carol gave a meek nod. “I… I noticed you had been barefoot at breakfast today.”

Emma could feel a small blush rise in her cheeks. She had forgotten she had done that. Her mind just wasn’t where it normally was. “Oh. Yeah.” She bit on her lip, realizing Carol was probably looking for some explanation. “My old shoes… They got torn up pretty bad. I thought I’d just toss them.”

“Oh,” Carol said with a small smile of relief. “Well, the boots are all yours. Just be careful with them. We don’t have a huge supply of footwear.”

“Of course.”

Her hands now empty, Carol began to wring her hands together. Her grey eyes had a look of hesitance. “Emma, are you alright?”

For a split-second, Emma considered feigning ignorance and pretending she was bright as day, but she knew that would be pointless. Emma had spent the entire day lying in bed. She had shown up to breakfast without shoes on. It was obvious something was bothering her.

Emma let out a sigh. “I’ve just… Been thinking a lot.”

“What about?”

Emma flicked her eyes up at Carol. She seemed earnest, caring. Carol wasn’t trying to be nosey, she was trying to be helpful by giving Emma a chance to share her thoughts.

“Just… Everything, I guess. Life. Life as it is now. How short it all is.” Suddenly feeling weak, Emma leaned against the bars to support herself. “It is just starting to feel kind of pointless. Why bother living if everything ends up leaving you?”

“Life is definitely different now. It’s very hard to adjust to.”

“But it’s not just about adjusting! It’s about whether any of this is worth it. I mean, everyone either goes missing, or they die, or, or…” Or they break your heart, she added silently.

Carol’s kind grey eyes suddenly turned bright with tears. It only took Emma a heartbeat to remember Carol had lost Sophia. “I’m sorry. That’s now what I meant. I shouldn’t have said—“

“No, that’s alright,” Carol interrupted. Her voice was practiced and steady. “I can’t deny I haven’t thought these very same thoughts before.” Carol slipped a hand into the pocket of her jumpsuit and grabbed something. Emma could see a hint of pink yarn poking out between her fingers.

“I was angry at first. Angry at Rick, for leaving my child alone and scared. Angry at God for allowing harm to come to my Sophia. And then I was numb. I didn’t feel much, didn’t taste much. Everything seemed cold and grey. Lifeless. I lived mechanically, eating because I knew I needed to, sleeping because I knew I needed to. I did things because they needed to be done.”

“But,” Carol continued with a small smile. “Slowly, things became easier. I found comfort in the fact that Sophia is now at peace, that she doesn’t have to live with the horrors we face every day. When I think of her smile, or her laugh, I am not crippled by rage, or grief. Rather, I find myself smiling as well, as I remember how wonderful and perfect she was in every way.”

There was a far-off look in Carol’s eyes, and Emma knew she was remembering Sophia’s smile. “The pain of losing a loved-one never goes away. But it becomes easier to live with. Some days are harder than others. Some days you want to scream at the world, and some days you want to hide from the world. But you have to keep going, because it does get easier.”

Emma didn’t know what to say. She had never known exactly how Carol felt about everything that happened with Sophia. Carol had always been so quiet, Emma just assumed she was in constant grief. She had no idea Carol had grown to accept what had happened to Sophia.

“I hope what I had to say helped, at least in the littlest bit,” Carol said, retreating back into her humble self.

“It did. Really.”

“I’m glad. Listen, don’t bother coming down for supper. I’ll bring you up a plate. You just take your time to get better.”

“Thanks. I would really appreciate that.”

Carol smiled, her grey eyes twinkling. She reached her hand out and grabbed onto Emma’s hand. Her fingers, small and delicate as they were, were warm and reassuring. “Remember, it gets easier.”